Life Goes On
by a muser
Summary: It follows Draco, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Cho, and some other people about 5 years, for some people it's 6 years, after they graduate from Hogwarts. Some hook-ups, blah blah. bad at summaries and naming stuff. rr!
1. Chapter 1

The room was small and dingy, the Dursleys would have puked if they saw it, but it was all Harry could afford on his measly pay. "I could fix it up," Harry muttered as he ran his finger along the dusty counter. "I think I'll paint it a nice shade of green," Harry took out his wand and flicked it once. He stood for awhile, contemplating the effect it had on the apartment's appearance. "No, that's a little too cheery for my taste," Harry smirked. Cheer had never played an active part in his day to day life, what with all the battles and death he had seen in his seventeen years. Harry flicked his wand one more and the room became a deep blue. "No, too dark, it'll bring my mood down." His brow furrowed in frustration. In his mind he knew it was a petty thing to get frustrated over, but now that he was out of Hogwarts and away from all the things that had stressed him before, he enjoyed having a chance to get upset over something trivial. "How about a deep red?" Harry smiled and flicked his wand once more. The walls turned a deep shade of red, similar to the Gryffindor red he had worn for seven years. "Yes, that'll do," he smiled and turned to the rest of his apartment, which was in dire need of attention.  
  
"It could use a bit of tidying up, that's for sure," a voice said from behind Harry, making him jump. His slight jump made the voice chuckle, and Harry whirled around angrily to see Cho Chang leaning on the doorway, looking like she owned the place. Harry had once had a serious crush on Cho, and they 'went out' in 5th year, but then Cho became an emotional wreck and left him by saying that he just wasn't the one for her. Since then Harry could hardly stand being around her, but he didn't show it.  
  
"What do you want?" he muttered, turning back around to survey the wreck of a kitchen he now owned. He heard footsteps come up behind him and felt a soft touch on his shoulder. Harry shuddered, but didn't move away.  
  
"I want to be your friend again, Harry. I feel so awful for what I did to you fifth year. I want you to forgive me."  
  
Harry turned towards her, "Why now? That was two years ago, and I've kind of gotten over it. I'm not dwelling on something that happened when I was fifteen." He walked away from her, towards the small living room the size of an ordinary pantry.  
  
"But you don't know why I said what I did. You don't know what I was going through. Can you at least hear me out?"  
  
Harry coughed, caught off guard by this. "Well, my schedule is quite busy. I could try to work you in sometime next week, but that's not a big chance."  
  
Cho laughed, making Harry even angrier. Unbeknownst to him he was causing the wall paint to flicker colors back and forth, from red to black to green to yellow to puke orange and back all over again. "Harry, you work at the wand shop, there's no possible way you can't fit me in for at least a half hour."  
  
Harry glared at her. "How did you find out?" he asked, upset at the fact that his new dingy lifestyle had been somehow revealed to part of the world.  
  
"I know things," Cho smiled alluringly. "But that's not the point. Can you at least try to talk to me? Fifteen minutes, five minutes even, I just want to get this off my chest."  
  
Harry sighed, "I guess, fifteen minutes. Meet me outside the wand shop in two days at eleven, that's my lunch hour."  
  
Cho smiled and said, "I'll see you then." She turned to leave and noticed the walls. "That puke-orange color really isn't that great, you should go with a green to match your eyes." She flashed her pearly whites at Harry once more before leaving and closing the door behind her. Harry looked at the walls, and quickly changed them back to the maroon he had chosen earlier.  
  
"Oh dear," he mutter before plopping on the coach the apartment came with, sending a cloud of dust into the hair and causing him to cough. "Oh dear."  
  
***  
  
Draco was pacing up and down the room, thoughts flying everywhere. In the corner Pansy sat cowering, scared by this new, angry Draco that was extremely intimidating.  
  
"How could he do this to me without expecting me to fly off the handle? One day he's telling me one thing and the other he's telling me something different. How am I expected to understand him when he doesn't understand himself? It doesn't make any sense whatsoever, it just doesn't." His long black cloak swirled around him as he paced back and forth along the length of the room.  
  
"Honey," Pansy whimpered, hiding herself from Draco's glare under a hot pink blanket.  
  
"Don't even get me started on you, you, you." Draco stopped, unsure how to continue, he frowned and a couple whisps of his long blond hair fell in front of his face. Suddenly, a thought came to him, and he looked up triumphantly. "You scaredy-cat."  
  
Pansy's screwed up tight; she was trying really hard not to laugh. Draco sighed. "Go ahead, say it," he said resignedly.  
  
"Scaredy-cat?!?" Pansy burst out and fell into a fit of giggles. Draco glared at her, annoyed hoe much her moods could change and how quickly.  
  
"You were cowering in the corner a second ago, what's happened to you?" he grunted.  
  
Pansy contemplated his question, and between fits of giggles said, "I'm.not.scared.of.a.kindergartener!" This made Draco even madder, and he stormed out of the room. The door slammed behind. "Oh, honey, I didn't mean anything by it!" Pansy called after him, with no answer. Happily, she got up and started to throw things around the room. She loved making Draco mad; he just looked so cute when he was upset!  
  
Out in the next room Draco was sitting on the edge of a plump, ruby-red chair Pansy had given him last year as a Christmas present. He hardly ever used it, comfort was a part of his daily life.  
  
  
  
Draco shook his head, he was so ashamed that he was still leaving with his father at the age of 20, but there was no way out of it. If he left, well, his father wouldn't let it slide past him, and Lucius also had the power of a certain You-Know-Who behind him. Draco placed his head in his hands, willing the throbbing migraine to go way. How come he couldn't have been born to a normal family? How come life was always to mean to him, and why had he never found that thing that he was looking for.  
  
Draco moaned again, "Not that again," he told himself, and stopped letting his thoughts run away from him. Life was horrible, Draco decided. Horrible, horrible, horrible.  
  
***  
  
"I am a hard worker that is always dedicated to her work," Hermione said primly, sitting upright in her chair. She was wearing a smart, pin-stripe business suit with a pair of black pumps. That morning she had spent well over an hour trying to figure out what to wear, that was quite long for Hermione. Her usual morning routine was waking up and leaving.  
  
"What's your education history?" The lady sitting across from Hermione behind a pine wood desk sat very similar to Hermione, although she had a more confident glow about her.  
  
"I attended Hogwarts for the full seven years, and graduated as the Head Girl for Gryffindor." Hermione bragged about her year as a Head Girl any chance she got.  
  
The lady nodded and began writing something in a notebook in front of her. Many minutes passed, and the lady didn't stop writing. Hermione began feeling more and more uncomfortable, and began looking around the room. There were some articles framed up on the wall. Hermione squinted to read the titles. "Harry Potter Resurfaces" "Is Harry Potter for Real?" And finally, "The Rise and Fall of Harry Potter." Hermione smiled, this woman must be quite the Harry Potter addict. The smile vanished as she remembered the terms upon which she and Harry had last parted.  
  
  
  
Hermione winced, the memories flooding back too quickly.  
  
"Are you okay?," the lady asked in a way that told Hermione she didn't really care. Hermione nodded. "Then, I guess we'll proceed. Have you had any other jobs?"  
  
"Yes, I worked as an intern at a muggle newspaper."  
  
The lady looked up, a spark in her eye, "Which one, if I can be so bold to ask."  
  
Hermione smiled, "The Sun."  
  
The lady nodded and wrote something else down.  
  
*** 


	2. Chapter 2

"Ron," Ginny said, staring down at his immobile body. She couldn't stand to see her brother like that, so helpless. "Ron, please wake up," her voice broke into a sob and she searched around for a chair, there was one on the other side of the room. "I'll be back in seconds," she whispered and quickly left to retrieve the chair. She came back in seconds, as she promised, and sat herself into the chair. Her eyes took in the sight before her, pale face, no freckles, and how scared he looked. Ginny had always heard that people in comas looked peaceful, and she now knew that to be wrong as she looked at her older brother.  
  
  
  
Ginny put her face into her hands and began sobbing. Ron had always been such a great brother, even if he was a bit protective from time to time.  
  
  
  
Ginny looked at her brother one last time before sitting down at a nearby desk and writing out two letters.  
  
Harry- Ron is in a coma, please come to the hospital fast. -Ginny  
  
And  
  
Hermione- Please come quickly, Ron is in a coma. -Ginny  
  
Ginny picked the two pieces of parchment up and rolled them into two tiny columns of paper. She exited the room and walked up to the receptionist's desk.  
  
"Can you send this to Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, please?" Ginny asked, handing the two pieces of parchment to her. The receptionist nodded and exited into a back room. Now Ginny had to wait, and that was the most awful exercise of all.  
  
***  
  
Dumbledore looked gravely upon the Great Hall, where everybody was anxiously awaiting the Sorting so they could start eating the feast. Dumbledore himself was quite hungry, but he pushed that aside for the moment. He saw Professor McGonagall poke her head into the room, and Dumbledore nodded towards her. Her head quickly disappeared, only to reappear seconds later, leading the first years behind her. Dumbledore smiled, he loved watching the reactions of the first years as they entered the Great Hall. Practically all of their eyes were directed towards the enchanted ceiling, something Dumbledore had always been quite proud of.  
  
Dumbledore stood up and spread open his arms, "Let the sorting begin!" Professor McGonagall nodded and stood up beside the Sorting Hat and began calling off names.  
  
"Juniper Pucklebush!"  
  
"Ravenclaw!"  
  
The Raveclaw table erupted, cheering.  
  
"Jon Thornbutt!"  
  
The room rippled with quiet laughter at 'Thornbutt', making the first year's face flush a bright shade of red. Dumbledore glared at his student body, and everything was quiet again.  
  
"Gryffindor."  
  
The sorting continued, and Dumbledore's mood began to lift, something that had not occurred for quite some time.  
  
"Missina Pumplesnout."  
  
"Hufflepuff!"  
  
There was an eruption of applause in the hall as Missina smilingly headed towards her new house. Dumbledore clapped along.  
  
"Dumbledore," Snape whispered, leaning towards him. Dumbledore nodded, but didn't look his way. "How is the project coming along?"  
  
"Nicely," Dumbledore responded in a whisper. "Although I do have some things to work out, it's going nicely."  
  
"Glad to here it," Snape muttered, and sat upright once again. Dumbledore smiled, contemplating on what his next course of action should be. Well, he did want to try some of those new lemon flavored parchments; they'd be quite handy if he ever sent something top secret (which he did often). Instead of saying 'after reading this, burn it' he could say, 'after reading this, eat it.' Dumbledore began to chuckle at the absurdity of the thought. Snape glanced over at him briefly before turning back to the Sorting.  
  
"Liliana Turnbottom!"  
  
"Gryffindor!"  
  
"Gregory Wishington!"  
  
"Slytherin!"  
  
Dumbledore continued clapping, but his mind was elsewhere..  
  
***  
  
Harry woke up the next morning to the familiar sound of an own tapping on his window. He opened up the window and a gray-white bird flew in and dropped a letter into Harry's hands. Harry smiled at the bird, wondering why it wasn't leaving, and then realized that it was hoping for some sort of pay. Harry went to Hedwig's food stash and brought out a couple nougats of food, which he gave to the owl. The owl flew away after eating his nougats.  
  
Harry frowned at the piece of parchment he was holding in his hand. It was Ginny's handwriting, and he had not spoken to Ginny for five years. Still frowning, he opened it up and read. Harry sighed, he hadn't spoken to Ron for what seemed like a lifetime, and he deeply regretted it each day, but his pride would not let him apologize to his former best friend.  
  
"What to do." he wondered, sighing and remembering the 'date' he had with Cho after work. "I leave for the hospital tomorrow he decided," before carefully placing the paper onto the counter and fixing himself breakfast.  
  
After about an hour, Harry was ready and he walked over to his small fireplace. On top of the makeshift mantle was a small jar of powder, which Harry now reached for and drew out a pinch of it. He threw the powder into the fired, which instantly flared up and turned a disturbing shade of green. Harry winced; he hated floo powder, and stepped into the fire. "Alivander's!" he yelled.  
  
***  
  
Hermione was at her new, small office early the next morning, before the sun rose. She was arranging some personal items on her desk, a couple frames, when a business-like owl knocked on the window. She calmly stood up, smoothing her skirt, and walked over to the window. The bird was unrecognizable, but that was of no concern to Hermione since she would now be getting writing assignments from many different people. She opened the window and the owl hopped in, spraying her with a wet mist as he dried himself off.  
  
"You must have gotten rained on." She chuckled, and untied the piece of parchment tied to the owl's leg. She began to open it, but the owl wasn't gone yet. "Off with you, then," she said, pushing the owl towards the window. The owl just flew up and landed back on Hermione's desk. She groaned, frustrated. "What do you want?" she asked.  
  
The owl started pecking at her hand.  
  
"Get off!" she exclaimed, backing away. "Crazy owl," she muttered.  
  
The owl swooped at her, beginning it's pecking again.  
  
"I didn't mean it!" she yelled, shielding her face with her hand. After a lot of pecking she finally decided to do something, grabbed the owl around its belly, threw it out the window, and hastily shut the window. "Ha!" she laughed. The owl angrily started knocking on the window, and Hermione chose to ignore it.  
  
The parchment lay sitting on her desk, unopened. Hermione crossed the room and picked it up, wondering who would have sent her such a crazy owl. She opened it, and her eyes bulged out. "Oh dear," she muttered, reaching for her chair. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear." She wanted to go to Ron, but she couldn't just up and leave her job on the first day.  
  
"What to do," she muttered, a tear dribbling down her cheek. 


	3. Chapter 3

"The wand in the back, top shelf," Mr. Alivander said, shooing Harry off to get another wand. Mr. Alivander was staring quietly at the boy he was helping right now, making the boy fidget.  
  
"No, no!" Mr. Alivander said, waving his hand while still not taking his eyes off the boy. "Try the middle shelf, way back there. That should work." Harry nodded, and reached his arm into the back of the shelf. He had begun to get used to the way Mr. Alivander arranged things, if it could be called a method of arranging things. The more rare wands, like Harry's wand containing a phoenix feather, were stored in the back where little harm could be inflicted from flying items. It was dangerous to work in this shop, with things flying every which way at the command of wands in the wrong hand. Harry remembered the first time he had been in Alivander's, he had broken something and sent many things flying.  
  
"Have you found it?" Mr. Alivander yelled back at Harry. "It's in a rather deep green case."  
  
Harry grunted, pulling a wand case from deep within the shelf. Sure enough, it was green. "I think I've got it!" he called to Mr. Alivander, beginning to trot towards the front of the shop.  
  
Mr. Alivander reached for it, and once again Harry noticed how old his hands had become. Last year while climbing on one of the many high ladders in his shop, Mr. Alivander had fallen and suffered severe back problems. That was how come he had finally relented to hiring some help. So, Harry stepped in willingly, needing the money.  
  
"Here, try this," Mr. Alivander said, lovingly pulling the 9-inch wand out of it's box and handing it to the scared boy in front of him.  
  
The boy just stood there, looking stupidly at the wand he was holding.  
  
"Come on now, give it a wave," Mr. Alivander said kindly. Harry couldn't understand how Mr. Alivander could always stay so patient. He supposed it might be from his years of practice.  
  
The boy gave the wand a wave and suddenly many wand boxes were flying in Harry's direction. Hurriedly, Harry threw himself into a ball on the ground.  
  
"Nope, not the one," Mr. Alivander chuckled, smiling at the little boy who now looked like he was in shock.  
  
Harry gingerly pushed the wand boxes aside and began to stand up, being careful not to step on one of the boxes that had piled on top of him.  
  
"You okay there, Harry?" Mr. Alivander asked, smiling while throwing the green wand box into the pile which littered the floor. Harry smiled weakly and began to pick up.  
  
"No, no, boy," Mr. Alivander scolded, forgetting about the boy that still stood stock still in his shop. "It's lunch time, off with you." Harry tried to protest, but he noticed Mr. Alivander's resolute face, nodded, and exited the store.  
  
"Now, which wand could be yours?" Harry heard Mr. Alivander mutter in the background.  
  
Harry started walking to a small corner café that surprisingly served many muggle drinks. He intended on getting his favorite mocha, with marshmallows. He smiled at the thought, and the thought of Ron in a coma completely disappeared from his mind.  
  
"Harry!" he heard a familiar voice behind him, and turned around. It was Cho.  
  
"Oh," he muttered, having completely forgot about the meeting he had set up with her the night before. He forced himself to smile and said, "Hello, Cho."  
  
"Harry, I'm so glad I caught up with you! I checked in Alivander's, but he said you were already off, and he had no clue where. Did you completely forget about our meeting?" Harry noticed the hurt look on Cho's face, and decided that a little white lie wouldn't hurt.  
  
"No, course not," he smiled. "I just, well, I thought I might grab a mocha before we discussed, well."  
  
Cho laughed, "We will discuss, but not over lunch. I hate talking between mouthfuls. Let's discuss over mochas, shall we?"  
  
Cho smiled, and Harry suddenly realized how come he had had such a deep crush on her during is fourth and fifth years at Hogwarts. Harry nodded.  
  
"Where's this mocha shop?"  
  
"This way," Harry said, pointing down the block.  
  
"Let's go." So they walked off together, towards the mocha shop.  
  
***  
  
The feast was over, and Dumbledore retreated into the staff room behind the Great Hall.  
  
"That went well," he smiled, saying his customary post-sorting feast statement. The teachers barely noticed his comment.  
  
Professor McGonagall was staring at a new painting of Diagon Alley that Dumbledore had purchased the summer before. The people were bustling around the alley, and Dumbledore loved being able to look for people he knew.  
  
Professor Snape was sitting on a plush purple chair reading a thick fiction book called "What If" that talked about historical events and contemplated upon "what if this had happened instead.or this didn't happen." Dumbledore had read it a few summers ago and had given it to Professor Snape, highly recommended.  
  
Professor Sprout was flitting around the room, obviously looking for something.  
  
"Hello all," Dumbledore said, loudly enough for the whole room to hear. "And welcome to a new year at Hogwarts." The teachers glanced at him briefly before returning to whatever they had been doing. Dumbledore sighed; his staff never seemed to show his same enthusiasm for a new school year.  
  
"See anybody you know?" Dumbledore asked Minerva, walking over to her and standing beside her.  
  
"What?" Minerva said, turning around briefly. "Oh," she said when she saw that it was Dumbledore. "Er, no." Minerva's mind had drifted off long ago to other things more important than who was now in Diagon Alley.  
  
"Hmm." Dumbledore said, gazing at the portrait, obviously unaware of his employee's lack of attention. "Is that.no, it's not. Their heads are the same, that's all."  
  
"Yes." Minerva said, unaware of what she was agreeing to.  
  
Professor McGonagall had received word a couple days ago that Hermione had gotten a job at the Daily Prophet. Minerva had taken a liking to Hermione since the sorting 12-some years ago, and she couldn't believe that Hermione would take a job at such a foolish newspaper, especially after how it so rancidly attacked both Harry and Dumbledore in her 5th year. How could Hermione do that? Minerva had had no time since receiving the news to write Hermione a letter, but she fully intended to when she had the chance.  
  
Dumbledore glanced over a Professor McGonagall, noticing for the first time that her mind wasn't on the new painting.  
  
"A sickle for your thoughts," he said, turning away from the painting and towards her.  
  
Professor McGonagall sighed. "Hermione has gotten a job at the Daily Prophet."  
  
Dumbledore smiled, "That's great! Why are you so worried?"  
  
Minerva looked at him like he was daft. "Have you forgotten how hard the Daily Prophet made it for you seven years ago?"  
  
Dumbledore frowned, he hated thinking about that horrible year.  
  
"Well," Minerva said sharply. "I cannot understand how Hermione can get a job at such a place when it attacked her best friend so horrifically."  
  
"Maybe," Dumbledore said in a soft voice. "Maybe that's why she got the job."  
  
Professor McGonagall looked up at Dumbledore, confused. "But." she said, but Dumbledore was already walking away and she knew that it would be foolish to attempt to ask him what he meant.  
  
***  
  
Ginny was dozing in the uncomfortable high-backed chair she had sat next to Ron's bed. The nurses had pleaded with her to go home and sleep, but she refused saying, "What if he wakes up?" The nurses were too kind to argue and crush her hopes of a revival.  
  
Ginny moved restlessly in response to the dream, which was actually more of a memory.  
  
  
  
Ginny woke up with a start. She looked at Ron; he was the only one she had left. He couldn't die, he just couldn't. 


	4. Chapter 4

Draco frowned, looking at himself in the mirror, or, actually, he was gazing at the appearance of Gregory Wallace. Draco groaned at the thought of the name, how he despised it. Why did it have to be GREGORY WALLACE? Why couldn't it be.Drexel something? Drexel was an awesome name. Gregory Wallace was none too appealing, Draco frowned as he ran his hand along the ugly tweed suit he was forced to wear. Oh how he dreaded this job.  
  
***  
  
"Harry," Cho said, looking at him from across the small coffee table. She had no clue how to begin.  
  
"Yes?" he asked, looking up from the frappucino he had ordered.  
  
"Well, I don't know exactly how to say this, but." Cho looked nervously at her hands, which were holding the coffee cup in a death grip. She looked up at Harry to see if he showed any signs of impatience, but he didn't, for which Cho was extremely grateful. In a sudden burst of strength she hurriedly said what she had been meaning to, "I've always been so sorry for what I put you through in the fifth year," Cho looked at Harry, noticed that he looked on the verge of protesting, and plunged on. "I know that you want to say that I didn't put you through anything, but I know I did and I'd rather not hear you lie like that."  
  
Harry's eyes bulged, surprised at the firmness in Cho's voice.  
  
Cho continued, staring down at her coffee, "Since then I've been so ashamed that I haven't been able to speak to you. I've been so sorry, and I haven't been able to tell you. Pride is an awful thing, Harry, never ever let it get the best of you."  
  
"Cho," Harry said softly, unsure what to say.  
  
"Harry, please, I just wanted you to know that I never meant what I said when I said that you weren't the one for me. I was scared, scared for how I felt for you. I tried to tell myself there were no feelings there, but there were, and I'm so sorry for ruining them."  
  
"Cho, I don't want to sound too blunt, but why are you telling me this now?"  
  
Cho looked up at him, and he immediately regretted his words. Harry could see the water welling up in her eyes and was immediately reminded of what had frustrated him so much about Cho during his fifth year.  
  
"Do you not understand?" she asked quietly, still gazing deeply into her cup of coffee.  
  
Harry thought for a moment, and decided to word his next comment quite carefully. "Do.do you want to start dating again. Well, again might not be the right word..but, Cho, I'm so sorry but if that's what you want, then I can't help you."  
  
"I.I." Cho stammered, unsure what to say. Harry had hit her hard in the heart; he had understood her and denied her one wish. How could she respond to that? "Harry," she said, looking up for the first time from her coffee. "That is what I want, and if you can't do that then it's fine. Can you at least tell me why?"  
  
Now it was Harry's turn to stammer. He coughed a couple times to have an excuse to look away from Cho's imploring eyes. His eyes roamed to his coffee cup and he found himself following the edges of it. "I'm kind of seeing someone else," he finally said, in a voice just slightly louder than a whisper.  
  
"Oh," Cho said, obviously not suspecting such an answer. "Oh," she said again. Harry could hear rustling sounds as she put her coat on. "Well, Harry," she said. Harry still did not look up at her. "I guess I must be going, and I hope you realize that my apology was earnest in everyway. Goodbye." Harry heard her footsteps retreat and leave the coffee cup. He let out a breath and finally looked up.  
  
***  
  
By the end of the day Hermione was completely tired. She had been, in lack of a better word to say, adopted as the new coffee-fetcher in the Daily Prophet office. Nervous to refuse to run these errands in case it would cost Hermione her job, she had wasted her whole job pouring cups of coffee for her superiors.  
  
Hermione briefly thought about how embarrassing it would be if Harry or Ron could see her failing at something she excelled in. "Ron!" she whispered, instantly remembering he was in a coma and once again realizing the dilemma upon which she was now sitting. To go see Ron or not to go? That was the question.  
  
"Night," Hermione muttered as she walked by her boss' chair on the way out.  
  
"Hey," Mrs. Johnson, Hermione's boss, said. Hermione turned around. "Have you taken crap from people before?"  
  
Hermione almost smiled, almost. "On occasion," she answered.  
  
"Don't," Mrs. Johnson said bluntly before bending her head back over the piece of parchment she was working on.  
  
Hermione nodded and kept walking, finding it unnecessary to respond to such a random order.  
  
The outside air was cold, she pulled her cloak tighter around her body as she strode down the street; her apartment was only a block away. The night air was crisp. Her cloak whipped around her ankles as she walked forward quickly, wishing herself to her home quicker. Why didn't she apparate? She usually loved a good refreshing walk at night, but the air was too cold for her to enjoy it.  
  
Finally she reached her apartment building, for a moment her heart dropped while she was searching for her keys. Where were they? After several minutes of shivering and trying to find them, she finally found them at the very bottom of her purse (purses were something she always loved, despite constant teasing from her friends).  
  
The minute she got inside she dropped her purse on the ground and flicked on the light. She began to walk over to her bed, ready to drop in immediately, when she took in the appearance of her apartment.  
  
Hermione was a clean freak, so on most occasions her apartment was immaculate. Today, however, was a different story. Clothes were strewn in every which direction, and her multiple books were thrown all over the floor. Hermione gasped as her eyes swept over the room that didn't resemble whatsoever the home she had left that morning.  
  
"What?" she whispered as she began cleaning up unconsciously. "Who could have done this?" Hermione was confused, and had no clue what to do other than clean. So she did. She spent the rest of the night cleaning and rearranging her torpedoed apartment.  
  
The phone rang at two-o-clock that morning. Hermione had been dozing on the coach, and she jolted awake. "Hello?" she said groggily after finding the phone underneath a heap of curtains.  
  
"Hermione?" the voice at the other end was very familiar, and it sounded quite frantic.  
  
"It's her."  
  
The voice was all of the sudden angry. "Hermione, why haven't you come yet? It's been two days, or a day, I don't know. But Ron's in a coma and that's all that matters. Why don't you just put your pettiness aside and come visit your old best friend? He might die and never know you were sorry. That would be so horrific."  
  
"Ginny?" Hermione said in a gasp of realization.  
  
"Yes, who did you think it was? Santa Claus?"  
  
"No." Hermione sat down onto her couch.  
  
"Hello, it's Ginny."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Come now. That's not a request, that's a demand. For all I know Ron is on his death bed and it seems like you don't care a bit."  
  
"I do care," Hermione said in the most convincing voice she could summon. "It's just."  
  
"It's just that you don't."  
  
"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed exasperatedly. "You're not even giving me a chance to explain!"  
  
"Expain what? That you don't care at all? Yeah, I don't except that."  
  
"No!" Hermione said forcefully. She could hear Ginny's quick intake of breath. "That is not it," she continued loudly. "I do want to come see Ron, no matter what we went through so many years ago, but it's not a good time."  
  
"Right don't you tell Ron that? Oh, sorry, he's in a coma!"  
  
Hermione sighed, unsure of how to say what she needed to say.  
  
"I guess this was a bad idea, bye," Ginny hung up the phone.  
  
***  
  
A couple days later.  
  
Hermione walked purposefully towards the lift in the Ministry of Magic. She had been sent here on none other than.an errand, although this errand was slightly more important than pouring coffee for her co-workers.  
  
She got inside the lift and looked at the buttons, and she clicked the one with 'muggle' beside it. The lift clattered and began moving downwards. Hermione closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. She didn't allow herself to think, because when she did the first thing that entered her mind was Ron, and she didn't want that.  
  
Hermione felt the lift stop and opened her eyes to see how come, it didn't seem like the lift had traveled long enough to reach the muggle level. A man nodded at her as he entered and pushed a button to a level lower than Hermione's.  
  
She glanced over at him casually, and caught him pulling at his tweed as if it was extremely uncomfortable.  
  
"You okay?" she asked as he continued to adjust his clothing. He glanced over at her, surprised to hear her talking.  
  
"Umm." he glanced around the lift, as if looking for the person she was talking to. Hermione laughed for the first time in awhile.  
  
"Oh, well, um," he coughed, bending his down. "These aren't the most comfortable clothes."  
  
"Are you new? I haven't seen you around before," Hermione asked.  
  
"Yes, I am," he said in a kind of relief that they had changed the subject.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Well, um, it's Gregory Wallace."  
  
"Rather common name."  
  
"I get that a lot. What's your name?"  
  
"Hermione Granger." She was watching Gregory Wallace's face, and she noticed it contort for a few seconds before returning to normal.  
  
"Granger?" he coughed out.  
  
"You have something wrong with me?" she asked, suddenly becoming defensive.  
  
"No, no," he said quickly, putting his palms as a sign of defeat. "Not at all, it's just that name sounds familiar somehow."  
  
"Did you go to Hogwarts?"  
  
Draco (Gregory Wallace) was unsure how to respond. Luckily it was Hermione's level and they said their goodbyes before she stepped off.  
  
"Hermione Granger," he whispered to himself as the door closed behind her. "You've become quite the picture haven't you? In our years at Hogwarts Pansy outshone you, now it's your time to shine isn't it?"  
  
***  
  
"Hey," Harry said, bending over and kissing a wearied Ginny's forehead. She looked up at him and smiled.  
  
"Hey, I knew you'd come."  
  
"Is Hermione here yet?" he asked, looking around although he already knew she wasn't.  
  
Ginny shook her head.  
  
"Is she going to come?"  
  
"I don't know," Ginny said sadly. "I just don't know. I called her last night and she sounded like she wanted to come, but she kept making excuses."  
  
Harry nodded. "Could I have a moment please?" he asked.  
  
Ginny nodded and was about to leave when she turned back around to Harry. "Harry," she said, gazing into his bright green eyes, "I love you."  
  
Harry smiled broadly. "I love you too, honey. Talk to you later?"  
  
Ginny nodded and left the room.  
  
Harry turned around and gazed at his best friend, or his former best friend.  
  
"Ron," he began, but his voice cracked. "I've been meaning to tell you that I fancy your sister. Well, more than fancy actually. We've been dating for awhile now, but we've been going behind your back because we didn't want to upset you. Actually, I just didn't want to talk to you face to face. I've been so petty, and I can't believe we let our friendship fall through the cracks like we did. It wasn't good and I hate myself everyday for it. Please, Ron, don't die so I can at least apologize to the face I know and not this coma face."  
  
Harry felt tears on the edge of his eyes, so he quickly said goodbye and left the room.  
  
"You okay?" Ginny asked, rushing over to him.  
  
Harry nodded, still fighting back the tears.  
  
"He's sorry too," Ginny said.  
  
"Did you." Harry asked angrily, turning towards her.  
  
"No, but I know why you wanted to be alone."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"How do you know he was sorry?" he asked.  
  
"He never really told me, but I could tell."  
  
Harry accepted this and turned towards her.  
  
"You're a girl in a million, Ginny. You know, Cho tried to get back together with me today."  
  
A/N..SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!!! I'm finally getting around to the plot, I'm so proud of myself! I know, it's the fourth chapter and I still haven't gotten around to it. I'm sorry. Please review, because if you do I'll love you eternally. I really and truly want to know what you guys think of my story thus far. Thanks. 


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione was sitting with her legs crossed across from the Minister of Magic, Amblebird Liff. Fudge had retired quite a few years ago with the request of the Wizengamot after having foolishly disregarded Dumbledore's warnings of Voldemort's return.  
  
"Thank you very much Liff for allowing me this interview. It is much appreciated."  
  
"It's my pleasure," he said smiling. He had a plump face with wrinkles of fat curling over one another. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he spoke, and Hermione found herself entranced by it. He cleared his throat, and she continued.  
  
Hermione looked down at her notes, and on impulse asked, "Who's Gregory Wallace?"  
  
"W-what?" Liff stammered, not prepared for such an unprofessional question.  
  
"Who's Gregory Wallace," Hermione repeated unfalteringly.  
  
Liff quickly composed himself.  
  
"He was hired as a member of our Spell Creation committee."  
  
"Spell Creation committee? I haven't heard of that before."  
  
"Yes," Liff smiled, creating even more wrinkles in his face. "Well, it's a fairly new department. It's actually my brainchild."  
  
Hermione listened raptly as he talked about how he thought all the spells being used today were terribly old-fashioned, and how he thought 'why not make new spells.'  
  
"So, of course we immediately had to start. We even added an extra level to this building, you know, just for the Spell Creation committee. We also had to get more employees, so I'm afraid the ones we hired weren't fully learned in that area, but as the committee grows, so will its skill."  
  
"Have you thus far made any new spells?" Hermione asked, pursuing this line of thought and completely ignoring the list of questions in front of her.  
  
"Well, er," Liff coughed nervously. "No, not yet. But we are extremely close to making a spell to take a picture with your wand and have it transmitted to a mirror like thing that can be miles away."  
  
Hermione nodded, still confused. "Mirror like thing?"  
  
"Well, it's a mirror to any muggle. To us wizards though, we just say a description of the picture we want and it pops up. I'm guessing it will be quite handy one day."  
  
"Yes, one day," Hermione muttered as she scribbled this onto her clipboard with her brand-new quill which she had used as a reward for herself for getting the job at the Daily Prophet.  
  
"Why did you want to know about Gregory Wallace?" Liff asked, returning to the original question.  
  
"Oh, um, I met him in the lift on the way down and wondered who he was. I hadn't seen him around before."  
  
Liff nodded.  
  
"Nice boy, nice boy."  
  
******  
  
The air around Hogwarts had become less excited since it was the third day after school began. Dumbledore had decided to begin wandering the halls aimlessly to watch the students scurry about; he had the feeling that his reign over Hogwarts would end soon, so he wanted to savor every minute.  
  
"Hello Professor," he said as McGonagall walked by.  
  
She gave him a curt nod and continued on her way.  
  
Dumbledore stopped walking and stared at a girl that was walking alone at rather a quick pace. Her white hair glimmered as she passed a window.  
  
"Excuse me," Dumbledore said as he stopped in front of the girl. She looked up at him, unsurprised. "What's your name?"  
  
"Drexeline Malfoy," she said without missing a beat.  
  
"Malfoy?" Dumbledore replied, taking this all in.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Any relation to a Draco Malfoy?"  
  
"He's my cousin."  
  
"I didn't know Draco had cousin."  
  
"They don't look fondly on me because I cast a hex on Draco once for being a prat."  
  
"What year are you?"  
  
"5th"  
  
"What house?"  
  
"Ravenclaw."  
  
"A Malfoy in Ravenclaw and not in Slytherin?"  
  
"With all do respect sir, I dislike being called a Malfoy. Could you please repeat that and instead say, a Drexelina in Raveclaw and not in Slytherin?"  
  
Dumbledore complied.  
  
"Thank you. I must be going now, goodbye."  
  
Dumbledore nodded at her. Drexelina Malfoy, that was something new and quite a pleasant surprise. Maybe the Malfoy family wasn't all bad after all.  
  
***  
  
Harry was still smiling as he stepped into a St. Mungo's fireplace and was sent whirling towards the Ministry of Magic, towards his real job. He was smiling because he remembered the lingering, loving kiss Ginny had planted on his mouth right before he left.  
  
The whirling stopped and he shot out of a fireplace into The Ministry of Magic, where he spent many nights. Alivander's was for enjoyment.this fulfilled his 'hero' complex in a subtle way. Even Harry couldn't really understand his innermost workings, he just kind of went along with what came his way.  
  
"Hello there Harry," said a bulky man sitting in a plump chair by the fire. "Do come in."  
  
"I wasn't under the impression I couldn't," Harry muttered as he wiped himself clean of the invisible soot spots he could feel all over him.  
  
"Ho, ho!" the man laughed heartily, punching Harry in the arm.  
  
Harry stumbled and quickly caught himself before he fell into the fire.  
  
"Ready to get workin'?" the man, whose name was Mr. Whoozie, said.  
  
"Yes sir!" Harry said in a voice that was a mix between sarcasm and actual enthusiasm. This job wasn't the best, but it did have its perks. The newly created Spell Creation committee was so devoid of talent that they had called in Harry Potter to perform the spells the came up with. Harry didn't fully understand his job, it was all just a tad bit confusing, but he did enjoy performing the spells and occasionally causing somebody's toupee to burst into fire.  
  
"What have you guys come up with now?" Harry asked as they walked down a long, dark hallway on their way to the Experimentation of Spells room at the end of the hall.  
  
The man grunted. "Nothing major, a way to make colorful fire, and we want you to try out the photo wand thingee one more time."  
  
Harry nodded. He wasn't as of yet completely convinced that there was any need for this level, but Liff had become known for his extravagances  
  
"You first," Mr. Whoozie said, holding a heavy door widely open to allow Harry to enter.  
  
Harry nodded his thanks.  
  
"Harry!" a man called, and Harry was suddenly pulled into a bear hug.  
  
"So good to see you again!" he said, patting Harry's back a couple of times before pulling away.  
  
"Hello Jim," Harry said warily, still trying to get his breath back after that attack.  
  
Harry looked around the room and saw a man slumped against the wall, glaring at Harry.  
  
"Good day Gregory," Harry said, more out of necessity than anything else.  
  
Gregory Wallace grunted back.  
  
"Now that all our greetings are in order, let's begin," Mr. Whoozie said, waddling into the middle of the room. "Do you have your wand, Harry?"  
  
Harry reached into his pocket; he was wearing muggle jeans beneath his robes, and drew out his wand. "Yes," he said unnecessarily.  
  
"Good, good," Mr. Whoozie muttered airily as he drew out his own wand.  
  
Gregory tapped Mr. Whoozie on the shoulder, and he turned around with a start.  
  
"Maybe I should be showing this new spell to Potter?" Gregory said. Mr. Whoozie's face looked blank for a second before he nodded and stepped aside.  
  
Harry recognized that voice, that way that 'Potter' was spat out. It nagged at the back of his mind, but he completely pushed it away to clear his mind for this next spell.  
  
"Hold your hand out like this, Potter," Gregory said.  
  
Harry complied.  
  
"Swish like this," Gregory stabbed forward with his wand and did two quick counterclockwise circles with the end. "Then say Chrompyre."  
  
A shot of red fire shot out of the end of Gregory's wand.  
  
"Why do you need me to test it if you can already perform it?"  
  
Gregory smiled stiffy, "I wish to make sure it performs the same for everyone."  
  
"What about Mr. Whoozie and Jim?"  
  
"They can barely levitate a feather; they don't have the experience to perform this."  
  
"They did other experimental spells before."  
  
"They never worked for them did they?"  
  
Harry finally relented, he had the feeling inside of him that Gregory was bad and he didn't want to give in without a fight- even if it was the most petty thing which he knew he would almost automatically lose.  
  
"Chrompyre," Harry said, swishing his wand correctly. A shot of red fire identical to that of Gregory's shot out of his wand.  
  
"I thought it was supposed to change colors," Harry said, lowering his wand.  
  
"What color do you want your fire?" Gregory said. Harry saw Gregory's fist clench over his wand.  
  
"A pretty indigo, please," Harry said in a civil voice, almost too civil.  
  
"Then you'll say Indigus Chrompryer, and you'll have a pretty indigo flame."  
  
Harry tried it, and indeed Gregory was correct.  
  
"Well, this is quite an interesting spell," Harry said while repeating it with another color.  
  
"One of our rare successes, yes?" Gregory said in a voice that sounded oddly sincere.  
  
Harry looked around the room and noticed that Mr. Whoozie and Jim had left.  
  
"Where'd they go?" he asked.  
  
"Probably off to prepare the 'photo wand' room for you."  
  
"We have a special room for that spell now?"  
  
"Yes, we think it a very important spell to develop and succeed at, so we have an unlimited account in Gringotts for anything we may need."  
  
Harry nodded. On an impulse he asked, "Why did you take this job?"  
  
*Where did that question come from?* he asked himself.  
  
Gregory looked rather taken aback by the question.  
  
"Excuse me?" he asked with confusion in his voice.  
  
Harry was tempted to repeat the question slowly, as if speaking to a foreigner, but resisted the temptation and simply repeated the question.  
  
Gregory thought for a couple seconds about what the best answer could be.  
  
*I can't tell him the truth, most obviously* Draco (Gregory) thought to himself. *But what should I say?*  
  
Gregory coughed.  
  
"Today, Gregory," Harry said, beginning to grow impatient.  
  
"I needed the money."  
  
"But, this doesn't pay that well." Harry said.  
  
"It's enough to keep a roof over my head, okay? Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be going."  
  
Harry stepped aside and watched Gregory leave. *That was odd.*  
  
***  
  
Hermione was quite content with the outcome of her interview. She hadn't stuck to the original topic she had had in mind, but she did have some information for a rather important new section of the Ministry of Magic. She could see the headlines now "THE MINISTRY ADDS A NEW LEVEL, THE SPELL CREATION LEVEL." *No, that's a little drab.*  
  
Hermione was walking with her head down and didn't see a man walking straight towards her, also with his head down. Before she knew what happened she was on the ground, knocked out cold.  
  
A/N: I HAVE FOUR REVIEWS!!! THANK YOU GUYS!!! Actually, it's from the same two people. Heehee. Read and review please please please pleaes pfadlktyadsckmdsa;ltysdaf,cmdsl;tkyest;cmasdl;ty heehee, sorry. 


	6. Chapter 6

Drexelina Malfoy was sitting in Ravenclaw's common, pouring over one of the book on Dark Magic she had rented from the Library.  
  
"Drexelina," said an oily voice from nearby.  
  
Drexelina didn't look up.  
  
"Drexelina!" the voice exclaimed louder.  
  
Drexelina still didn't look up.  
  
Footsteps came over and Drexelina felt her chin being pushed up so that she was looking into the angry eyes of a seventh year girl.  
  
"Hello," Drexelina said coldly.  
  
"Hello," the girl said. "Why didn't you respond?"  
  
"I saw no need to."  
  
Drexelina's chin was jerked upward harder; she felt the need to cringe but resisted the urge.  
  
"YOU.NEED.TO.RESPOND.WHEN.A..SEVENTH.YEAR.SPEAKS.TO..YOU." the girl said, punctuating each word.  
  
"I didn't know you were a seventh year, your voice is so similar to everybody else's."  
  
Drexelina felt a palm across her face. Drexelina didn't react.  
  
In the background she could hear singing.  
  
"Drexelina is so perfect.Drexelina is so kind..she'll punch and kick..scream and shout.but we don't care..because she doesn't hurt us with those measly arms."  
  
It was such a horrid song, Drexelina realized, but it still boiled inside of her. She screamed and flung the seventh-year away from her; the seventh- year flew across the room and landed on the opposite wall, unconscious.  
  
The room was quiet; Drexelina didn't look at anyone and quickly stormed out of the common room.  
  
"Boy is she a stick in the mud!" the seventh-year roared in the background, and the common room erupted into laughter.  
  
***  
  
"Sorry," Gregory mumbled, rubbing his head with the heel of his hand. He groggily sat up, holding himself up with the hand that wasn't rubbing his forehead.  
  
"Oh dear," he grumbled as he saw the unconscious figure before him.  
  
Draco (Gregory) bent over the figure and start slapping her face in the hopes of jolting her awake. No such luck. Grudgingly he lifted her into his arms and set off towards the makeshift first-aid center located on that floor.  
  
As Draco was walking along he looked the unconscious girl's face for the first time.  
  
He sighed, it was Hermione Granger.  
  
Draco refused to look down at her face until they were almost to the first- aid place and curiosity finally overcame him. He wanted to see how she had turned out, beauty-wise.  
  
*Well, she's not bad,* Draco confessed to himself. *Her hair isn't quite so bushy, it's actually and surprisingly quite soft.* Draco was about to touch the hair when he remembered that he was holding her and quickly regained his grip around her body. *Her face was hidden behind that bushy hair; now that it's unhidden it's quite nice. Her cheekbones are quite pronounced and there's a softness about her face.*  
  
Draco looked up again, rather furious at his observation of the gorgeous Hermione, and continued on to the First Aid room.  
  
***  
  
The first thing Hermione felt when she woke up was a since of warmth and safety, safety beyond which she had ever felt before. She was unwilling to open her eyes, she didn't want to lose that warmth and safety because she was jolted into the real world.  
  
*What on earth* she thought as she realized that she was being lightly jostled back and forth. *Am I being carried?*  
  
The warmth left her as she opened her eyes, only to be replaced by the view of a man's chin.  
  
"Let go of me!" she cried on impulse and began flailing. There was no resistance from the man, and she fell to the ground with a plop.  
  
"Ow!" Hermione exclaimed, standing up and rubbing her backside. "What did you do that for?"  
  
"You told me to let go off you," the man said.  
  
That voice, Hermione recognized it, but from where. Hermione finally looked up at the man.  
  
"Aren't.aren't you Gregory Wollock?" Hermione asked. His eyes were so familiar too, where had she seen them before?  
  
"Gregory Wallace," Draco (Gregory) corrected.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry."  
  
"It's alright, just don't get it wrong next time."  
  
"I'll try not to," Hermione said with a sarcastic tone to her voice.  
  
There was an awkward silence, which was only broken by the distant hooting of a bird.  
  
"So, um," Hermione said quietly, looking down at her feet. "What happened?"  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
Hermione coughed and her cheeks showed the faintest bit of pink on them. "Why were you carrying me?"  
  
"Oh, well, I guess we collided and you went unconscious."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Yeah, that's the way it was."  
  
"I see."  
  
There was another awkward silence. Hermione started fiddling with her hair, and didn't seem to notice Draco's intense stare.  
  
"Are you feeling fine?" he asked.  
  
Hermione looked up, rather surprised at the unexpected interruption of her hair-fiddling.  
  
"Oh.yeah, I guess so."  
  
"You guess so?"  
  
Hermione smiled, Gregory had just said what her Mom always used to say, 'You guess so?'  
  
"I know so," she said, still smiling.  
  
Draco (Gregory) was rather perplexed by her bright smile, and at the same time he was enchanted. Her smile was just so..charming (for lack of a better word).  
  
"Well, I better get going," he finally coughed and quickly walked away.  
  
*Odd fellow,* Hermione that as he walked away.  
  
***  
  
Draco looked back over his shoulder and saw that Hermione was still standing there, looking confused. Without thinking he decided to do something that his father and Voldemort would have been most proud of- lie.  
  
He turned around and hurried back to Hermione, which made her even more confused.  
  
"Aren't you going?" she asked with a slight smile.  
  
Draco smiled.  
  
"Did you go to Hogwarts?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I think I was in the class above you."  
  
"Oh, what house?"  
  
Draco almost said Slytherin before he changed his mind.  
  
"Ravenclaw." Gryffindor was not a choice, and Hufflepuff had always reminded him of marshmallows, so Ravenclaw it was.  
  
"Oh, with Cho Chang?"  
  
Draco coughed, he had almost forgotten that girl. He had knocked her off her broom in many Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw games.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Hermione's face suddenly changed, and Draco watched it transform with a sense of awe. Her eyes suddenly gleamed angrily and she was no longer confused.  
  
"Ar-are you anger about something?" Draco asked.  
  
Hermione looked up at him in a sudden, jerky movement having completely forgotten that he was standing over her.  
  
"No, not really anyways. Was there something you wanted to say to me?"  
  
"Well, other than me having recognized you since you were rather famous within the school, I wanted to know if I could see you sometime."  
  
"Sure, I'll figure out a way, but I have a deadline, so I really must be going. Goodbye."  
  
Draco watched Hermione walk away and was wondering whether or not his endeavor had been successful.  
  
***  
  
Hermione was almost out of the Ministry when she was knocked over for the second time that evening. This time she didn't lose conciousness.  
  
"Sorry about that," the person who had knocked her over muttered as he gathered up her parchments that had scattered all over the floor.  
  
That voice was all too recognizable..  
  
"Harry?" she asked before she was able to stop herself.  
  
He turned around with a flash, remembering his childhood friend's voice. "Hermione?" His voice had so many emotions within it that Hermione was unable to even decipher one.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asked.  
  
"Testing out some spells in the Sp-"  
  
"Spell Creation Committee?"  
  
"How did you know?" Harry's voice suddenly became stiff and informal.  
  
*No, don't go back to that,* Hermione pleaded with him in her mind. *I so want to say sorry, but I know how much our pride forbids. Oh, Harry, please don't be noble for this one time in your life.*  
  
"I interviewed the Minister this morning," Hermione replied, refusing to let Harry get away so soon. "What do you do in it?"  
  
"Test spells." Hermione gazed up into his eyes and searched for something that would tell her he wanted to go back to what they had. There was nothing there.  
  
Searching for a top, Gregory Wallace suddenly popped back into her mind. "Do you know a Gregory Wallace?"  
  
"Yes," Harry's eyes flashed with anger.  
  
"You don't like him?" Hermione recognized that flash, he had always looked that way when he spoke of Draco back at Hogwarts.  
  
"There's nothing to like."  
  
"Is there something to dislike?"  
  
*Hermione, why do you have to do this?* Harry thought. *You always pry into my brain when I have no right to those thoughts. Please, don't do that.*  
  
Harry chose not to answer the question.  
  
"Harry." Hermione began, but she was unsure how to finish.  
  
"Please, Hermione, don't apologize, because then I'll have to feel sorry myself and that's the last thing I want to top off tonight."  
  
Hermione looked up into his eyes and felt tears beginning to form.  
  
"Don't cry over me," he replied before putting her parchments down besides her and striding out.  
  
"Oh, don't worry, Harry, I'll try not to," she whispered after him, wiping away tears that were beginning to spill, and stood up.  
  
***  
  
Drexelina Malfoy was the only one in the common room, everyone else had cone off to watch the Quidditch Match.  
  
She was sitting cross-legged before the fire, staring at it intently as if expecting something to appear at any moment.  
  
The flames suddenly turned into an odd shade of green before a bodyless head appeared in the midst of it.  
  
"Hello Sirius," she said.  
  
The head in the fire was owned by Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather and the only man alive who ever had succeeded in escaping from Azkaban, the dreadful wizarding prison.  
  
"Hey Drexelina, how's everything?"  
  
"Well, if you say that people proclaiming their hate for you in front of the whole school is okay, then I'm fantastic."  
  
"You'll be out of this place in a couple years, and then you'll leave them all behind you, don't worry about it."  
  
"I'm not; I'm just telling you how I stand with the student body."  
  
"Well, anyways, have you been able to find anything else out on becoming an Animagi? There's only so much I can remember and can help you with in the process of you becoming one."  
  
"I found out that to become one you have to first know which animal you'll be turning into."  
  
"And that is not at all up to you," Sirius cut in, his voice sounded tired and Drexelina realized how many more gray hairs he had sprouted since his last talk with her through the fireplace.  
  
"Do you know how to find out what animal you'll turn into?"  
  
"Well, for me it was in the form of my favorite pet as a child, but it's different for every body. James."  
  
"James Potter?"  
  
"Yes, you know very well that he was my best friend before, well, yeah."  
  
"I know, just making sure."  
  
"Well, anyways, James became a stag because his personality was so similar to one."  
  
"I've done some researching, and I've decided that I'd probably become a leopard or some animal similar to that."  
  
"How'd you find a leopard to be similar to you?"  
  
"Lonely, fast."  
  
Sirius nodded as if this was a completely acceptable answer.  
  
"I'll probably be able to attempt and transform by next month, do you have any suggestions?" Drexelina continued.  
  
"None at all, and I really hate to be cutting this short, but I must be going. I'm afraid that if I stay too much longer I'll get in trouble."  
  
"Bye."  
  
"Bye."  
  
The flames returned to orange, and there was no head lingering in the fire anymore. 


	7. Chapter 7

Flashback to Harry's 7th year at Hogwarts.  
  
Hermione was walking down the hall, trying desperately to hold five, thick books steady while looking at her watch.  
  
"Oh, buggers," she muttered when she noticed that she was a couple minutes late for her next class.  
  
She was hiding her watch once again beneath the folds of her wardrobe and began to readjust the position of her books when she lurched forward.  
  
"Oh look, Hermione's fallen," she heard a rich voice chuckle from behind her.  
  
"Draco," she muttered, quickly gathering her books back together.  
  
She sat up onto her knees to stack her books more effectively when she felt a hand on her chin tugging her face upwards. She jerked her chin out of Draco's hands violently and glared up at him.  
  
"What are you playing at?" she spat.  
  
"Nothing, my love, it's just that with a little Witch's Remedy and some well-placed rouge you might actually be quite pretty."  
  
"Thanks for telling me that, I'll be sure never to touch Witch's Remedy or rouge again in my life."  
  
She stood up quickly and staggered beneath the weight of her books before regaining her footing.  
  
"There goes Hermione hidden behind her books once again. If only I could see her lovely face once more before we depart again. I do so hate to part at such awful word."  
  
Hermione's insides were boiling and before she could simmer them back down she dropped her books onto the floor and angrily strode forward, pushing Draco up against the wall.  
  
"I don't know what you're playing at, Draco," she spat his name out and he playfully wiped his face. Hermione pompously ignored this act and continued, "Whatever it is, I can guess one thing, it has something to do with my best friend."  
  
"Ron Weasley? That git? Course not!" Draco cut in, a smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth.  
  
"You know that I'm talking about Harry Potter, and don't you dare call Ron a git. He's more of a man than you'll ever be."  
  
"I thought as much," Draco laughed.  
  
Hermione stood, looking at Draco, shocked.  
  
"You actually thought Ron was more of a man," she asked unbelievingly.  
  
"No, course not," he laughed. "Well, I'll address that later, but for now I'll just say that I thought and correctly as I see that you and Ron have a liking for each other. Indeed, I wouldn't be surprised if you're an item at this very moment!"  
  
"You git!" Hermione screamed, throwing a punch towards Draco's nose, which he skillfully blocked.  
  
"You're doing nothing for your case."  
  
"Ron's my best friend; I'd never think something like that of him."  
  
"Well, then, I'll not mention that again and take you at your word, but I will have to contradict what you said about Ron being more of a man. Could Ron ever do this?"  
  
Draco strode forward and swept Hermione into his arms. His lips crashed down onto hers and she felt herself swooning, although she knew that she shouldn't. After many moments of enjoying this passion-filled kiss she angrily pushed him away.  
  
"What was that for?"  
  
"That, my lady, is to prove that I am indeed a man."  
  
He turned around and walked down the hall. Moments later he disappeared around a corner, and Hermione was still staring after him.  
  
She looked at her watch and realized that class was already halfway through.  
  
"Oh, to heck with it," she muttered, picked up her books, and walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room.  
  
***  
  
"Where were you during Charms?" Ron asked, sitting himself across from Hermione at dinner.  
  
"You've never missed a class before," Harry said, grabbing a cup of pudding in front of him.  
  
"And I never will again."  
  
"What's your excuse, then?" Ron asked between mouthfuls of taters.  
  
"I.I guess I just got lost in my studies."  
  
Ron and Harry both let out a loud guffaw. Hermione shot a venomous glare in their direction and they instantly looked apologetic.  
  
"What was that for?" she asked.  
  
"Leave it to you to miss class for your studies," Ron said. Hermione glared at him and didn't talk to him for the rest of the evening.  
  
***  
  
Hermione sat up in her bedroom, thinking about the most surprising day she had ever lived through. More had gone down in the period of one half hour than had ever happened in one whole year.  
  
It was something Draco said that was now bugging her. ".I see that you and Ron have a liking for each other." Hermione shook her head, trying to convince herself that he was just misinterpreting her. After all, he was Draco and Draco was, well, evil. He didn't know her and most certainly didn't try to. At least he hadn't tried to until that day. That was something else that was bothering her, what kind of signals was Draco sending out. One minute he trips her and shows no regard whatsoever for her safety, then he shows an interest in her daily life, and THEN.well, Hermione didn't like to think about it.  
  
'Where did Draco get the impression that Ron and I, were, well, together? Or that we even had a liking together? What I told Draco was completely and totally true; Ron's my best friend and nothing else. The end of that story. Ron may be my best friend, but he's still a git, although I most certainly won't acknowledge that around Draco because then we'd actually agree about something. I can't like a git, and I never will. It's that simple.'  
  
Hermione wished that it was that simple, but she knew it wasn't. Unfortunately, she fell asleep to soon to think about why it might be more difficult than she hoped.  
  
*** Months passed and nothing else out of the ordinary happened. Draco didn't talk to Hermione except to chide her about her pale face and bush-like hair. She wished she could kick him where it counts, but then that would ruin her reputation as a quiet studier and that was the least that she wanted.  
  
Harry and Ron were constantly off practicing Quidditch for the upcoming Gryffindor vs. Slytherin games, so Hermione was by herself more and more frequently until it become rare to see Harry and Ron outside of meals. They apologized constantly for not hanging out with her, but she knew that their hearts weren't in those apologies because Quidditch was their true love. Hermione hated that, she hated that they loved Quidditch more than they valued their friendship with her.  
  
Studying now became her true friend and she became immersed in the worlds of Advanced Charms and the lives of such famous wizards as Godric Gryffindor and Mincent Lapore. It was as if her life wasn't really her own and she only lived to learn. Sure, she might've seemed like she lived like that before, but she really and truly lived for the adventure that being best friends with people like Ron and Harry brought along with it.  
  
The teachers began to notice how she became more and more detached from her best friends. They were concerned, but worried that if they mentioned something it would only grow worse, so Hermione's depression slowly deepened unchecked.  
  
***  
  
It was graduation day and Hermione dreaded giving her speech, because she had resolved to say some things in it that had gone unsaid for too long. She sat in a chair in the staff room, awaiting her cue to walk out into the rearranged Great Hall and give her speech.  
  
The door opened and Hermione glanced up. Professor McGonagall nodded towards her and ushered her into the Great Hall after giving Hermione a reassuring nod.  
  
"You'll do great," Professor McGonagall whispered to Hermione as she walked past her to do the introductions.  
  
"Hello everybody," Professor McGonagall said from the podium set up where the staff table usually was, "and welcome to Hogwarts. At this time it is a pleasure to introduce our valedictorian, Hermione Granger."  
  
There was clapping as Hermione walked up to the podium. She waited for it to die down before she began.  
  
"Hello and welcome. I suppose I should do the normal speech and talk about how wonderful this class is and how incredible these last seven years have been, and this class is incredible and these past years have been my best. That's not what I'm going to talk about; however, I'm going to talk about the friendships and bonds that grew over these seven years. I'm sure that many of us have made friends that will withstand the years. Leaving this ceremony you'll stay in touch and owl each other at every chance you get. That's awesome, and more than any of us reckoned for when we received that owl telling us that we were accepted to the most prestigious wizarding school in all of England. I wish I could have those friendships, one of those that lasts."  
  
Hermione paused and glanced over the crowd. The parents were gazing intently at her, a mix of pride and confusion plastered across their faces. Her classmates weren't moving, although they weren't looking up at her. A few of them were crying and Hermione noticed that Pansy Parkinson was using Draco's robes as a handkerchief.  
  
"My friendships have lasted these years, yes, and I know that many of you think that my best friends and I would stay that would forever, you were mistaken. Our friendships were held together by the perils we went through each year, and once those stopped there was no longer anything to hold onto. I hate that, but there's nothing I could do to stop it."  
  
Hermione paused once again, before continuing on with the rant she had been preparing ever since she had been deserted by Harry and Ron.  
  
"Yes, I'm smart, but that isn't everything in this world. If it was, I'd be well on my way to conquering it."  
  
There was a smattering of uncomfortable laughter across the hall.  
  
"Oh I can't do," Hermione whispered and hurried down from the podium and out into the hall. There were a couple gasps and Hermione heard somebody whisper 'I knew she'd go crazy one of these days. It's all that studying she does. Day and night!'  
  
Hermione threw herself against the wall and began crying with all her heart. She's been holding back these sobs for too long, and now they were echoing throughout the hall with no restraint.  
  
She heard four feet come towards her cautiously and without looking up she knew who it was.  
  
"Go away, you guys."  
  
"Hermione," Harry said, whispering. "I'm so sorry." He seated himself so that he was facing her, and Ron sat down behind him.  
  
"Do you think that that's all our friendship was, the bond of people going through peril together?"  
  
Hermione looked up at her two best friends and sighed, knowing that this wouldn't be easy. "You guys, you like Quidditch better than you like me. It may be petty, but when I don't see you guys for months straight I can't expect our friendship to be the same."  
  
"But we had to or else we would have lost against Slytherin," Ron protested.  
  
"Ron, that's so you. Competition, that's all you care about, you never compare the losses, do you? The amptitude of the losses? Slytherin or me, Ron? You chose and I hate you for it."  
  
"You..hate me?" Ron asked.  
  
"Ron, I'm not sure anymore. I used to love you, but I don't anymore. You ruined it all. I can't love someone I don't know."  
  
"You used to love me?"  
  
Hermione nodded, not knowing how to voice what she was feeling.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Harry said, and Hermione heard in his voice that he meant it.  
  
"Things are so messed up now guys, I don't know what to think."  
  
"Please don't desert us."  
  
"Harry, I'll pray for you every day of my life, that Voldemort will never get the better of you, but I can't say that I'll be there for you every day of your life. You certainly haven't been there for me. I have to go."  
  
And with that, Hermione left. She left her former life behind and went in search of a new one. 


End file.
